


Matter of Surprise, A

by fireflysglow_archivist



Category: Firefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-04
Updated: 2003-08-04
Packaged: 2019-04-29 09:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14470008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflysglow_archivist/pseuds/fireflysglow_archivist
Summary: Just a few drawn out moments set during "Serenity." Zoe style.





	Matter of Surprise, A

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).

 

A Matter of Surprise

## A Matter of Surprise

### by Nicole Clevenger

A Matter of Surprise  
by Nicole Clevenger (c)August 2003 

Written for the ff_friday challenge at LiveJournal. Set during "Serenity." 

* * *

It's the surprise punch to the chest that comes first. 

A full beat before the pain follows, making it a surprise all its own. 

Like she's been kicked by one of the horses, square and solid and breathtaking. For a strung out terrifying moment, Zoe can't get enough air. Can't hear for the ringing in her ears; can't see what with the pained involuntary tears. She fights for breath in ineffective panicked gasps, each inhalation a stab of desperation working against broken ribs. 

_Can't breathe. Can't breathe._

Then training takes over, grabbing hold of the frenzy by its reins and replacing it with smooth calm. That's when the pain hits. 

Vibrating through her entire body in a deep rolling bass beat, radiating from everywhere and nowhere. She can't tell where she's been hit, can't focus her senses past the blanket of agony to tell if she's bleeding anywhere. The armor had been a last minute impulse, a sharp gut feeling of the type unwisely ignored. Zoe doesn't know if it's done its work or if maybe she's just this side of sliding into shock, but she's still breathing - albeit painfully - and that surely isn't a bad sign. 

Either way - she figures, as she works at lifting her arm - the impulse itself was a good one. 

Her arm isn't quite moving - isn't quite _there_ yet, actually - but she can feel her fingers scratching feebly at the dirt. Blinking away the water and the dust, she squints up at the clear blue sky and understands for the first time that she's lying on the ground. The sound returns next, the unmistakable noise of gunfire that often follows her into her dreams. The noise of frantic animals, of people crying out in shock and hurt. She's in the middle of a firefight, flat on her back and good as useless. 

This isn't an acceptable option. She knows for certain that she took out one of Patience's boys, saw him go down and look to be staying there. Jayne and Mal had each picked off a man that she'd seen, but there were seven to start including Patience herself. She needs to get back into the fight. 

But first she needs to find her gun. 

She can't seem to lift her head, but it obeys enough to roll clumsily to the side, giving her an eyeline view of the rocky ground. And there's her gun, metal gleaming in an almost alien form from this unaccustomed point of view. The feeling starts returning to her arm in tiny pin pricks of sensation, bringing with them a conglomerated memory of months of sleeping on the hard ground with only her cradled arms for a pillow. For a moment she can actually hear the whistle of the shells raining down. 

A surge of effort that ricochets scorching pain off her bones, and her arm is moving toward its goal. She notes with satisfaction that the arm itself appears to be intact, adding weight to her growing suspicion that the vest has indeed served its purpose. And to the cold sneaking realization that if it hadn't, she'd probably be dead. 

Dwelling on that will have to be saved for later; Zoe's fingers can't quite reach her weapon. They flex and stretch, determined against the torment in her chest, but there's still a good inch between the two. Breathing shallow through clenched teeth, she reaches again, almost able to convince herself that she can't _actually_ feel the ribs shifting against themselves under her skin. 

_Come on, baby. You're almost there..._

Wash's voice, whispering so close that he could be kneeling beside her. She's not sure what scares her more in that moment - the fact that she now hears his voice where there used to be only her own, or the fact that his imagined encouragements are what finally seem to give her that extra burst of strength needed to lurch toward the gun. 

But reach it she does, closing her fingers around the barrel just as her mind registers the hoofbeats of a rider getting away. Betting on the fact that Patience and her gang had been the ones with all the horses, Zoe doesn't stop to think. Honed skill combines with natural talent, and her bullet finds its mark even with her still on the ground. 

She hears Mal call her name in a strained question of a voice, one tight syllable conveying so much to anyone who knows to listen. He sounds like he might be injured himself - a note of a song she knows by heart after all these years - and she works at sitting up. At normalcy. At her part of the bargain. 

"Armor's dented," she says as casually as she can, pulling at her shirt. Pretending that it doesn't hurt to breathe. 

"Well, you were right about this being a bad idea," Mal says. 

Her head is beginning to throb, and her entire backside feels bruised from her abrupt landing in the hard dirt. But the winner by far is the sharp ache in her chest, and she wants more than anything for this bad idea to become just another memory. To get back to _Serenity_ and her husband's voice coming from her husband's lips. 

Though, maybe having him in her head isn't really such a bad thing. Maybe it's not so much a matter of being scared, as it is a matter of surprise. Unexpected pleasures - just like unexpected pain - take some getting used to. 

"Thanks for sayin', sir," Zoe says. 

end. 

#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Nicole Clevenger


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